


Dear Aren

by Elveny



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Deep Roads, Developing Relationship, Emotions, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Grey Wardens, Letters, Romance, Sexual Tension, Tension, The Blight (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2018-11-29 23:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 22,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11451570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elveny/pseuds/Elveny
Summary: Fian Tabris finds herself a Grey Warden in the middle of a Blight. Throughout her journey she writes letters to her cousin, Aren, who is a Circle mage at Lake Calenhad.





	1. A Letter from Ostagar

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first of our Letters from Thedas projects that Kunstpause and I started for our DAO runthrough. The letters were originally posted to our tumblr: http://lettersfromthedas.tumblr.com

_Ostagar, 9:30 Dragon_ **  
**

Dear Aren,

where to start…?

This must be the most difficult letter I’ve ever written since you left for the Circle. I am no longer enganged and no, I’m not married either. I am no longer in Denerim. I am no longer in the alienage and I probably never will be again. And I’m frightened, at moments so much I barely can breathe. I don’t know whether I survive tomorrow.

By the Maker, this sounds ridiculously dramatic. But it’s true. I am… but no. Let me start at the beginning. Maybe recounting what happened will clear my mind. Maybe I can make sense of any of it.

The beginning. Beginning at what should have been the proudest and happiest day of my life. Remember how I said I was so sorry to hear that you wouldn’t be able to make it to my wedding?

Well, forget everything I said. I was never more glad for not seeing you.

It started with a human coming into the alienage, armed no less. Soris and I tried to get him to leave before there was any trouble, but he turned out to not only be a Grey Warden but a friend of Valandrian’s. He stayed but it did feel like a bad omen. We left him to his whatever he was doing and decided to just ignore him as best we could.

Nelaros, my fiancé, was great. You would have liked him, really. I can see before my eyes how you would’ve cocked your head, raising an eyebrow and making some pointed comments with that grin of yours. He was good-looking, really sweet and he honestly seemed to want to make this whole thing work as much as I. You know I had been nervous but when I met him, I truly believed everything would work out just perfectly. Even Soris calmed down and you know how he fretted over the whole thing. The priest came, everyone gathered and I think for a moment I even had something like butterflies in my stomach. And then… everything went to hell. Vaughan, the arl’s son, came and you probably can imagine what for. His party was lacking whores. The uproar was short. The priest said something but did nothing, neither did the Grey Warden. Or rather: they did what humans do best and looked the other way. Vaughan beat me unconscious and when I woke, I and several other women were in the arl’s estate.

I’ll spare you the details of what happened next. Nola did not survive and neither did Nelaros. He and Soris came to free us, can you believe it? He only met me this same morning and took up weapons against an arl’s son to help. He was a true hero and they cut him down like a dog. In return, I cut Vaughan down like a dog. Yes, I killed him, I killed him and all his guards for what he did to Shianni. And to Nola. And Nelaros and all the other elves he raped and beat and used and killed and discarded like trash. I stuck a knife in him, over and over again until I had blood in my eyes.

Should I have written that?

Can you understand?

Everything I read in your letters shows me that it is different for you now and I’m glad, really glad for you. You are friends with humans, no? I still have difficulties believing that this is actually possible. Truly possible. I don’t think it will ever be possible for me.

Then again… so much has changed. Maybe I will have to change as well.

Sorry, I was lost for a moment. Back to my story. Of course we were found out. They were ready to put all of us into prison, maybe even close the whole alienage, but… by then I had come to. Sort of. Soris’ panicked eyes were all it took for me to step forward and take the blame. Yeah, I hear you and yes, maybe it was kind of suicidal but what could I do? I couldn’t loose Soris as well and I knew he wouldn’t survive prison. His fiancée was still alive, he still had, _has_ a future. Me not so much. So I told them it was me, all alone. And they believed me. They probably wanted to believe me, glad for a scapegoat. But when they prepared to take me away, the Grey Warden, Duncan, stepped in. Now he stepped in. He did nothing to prevent the whole thing but now, when it was convenient, he conscripted me to the Wardens. Saving me from prison, probably saving my life. He gave me ten minutes to grab my stuff and we left. I barely had time to say goodbye to Shianni, Soris and Father and the rest, then we left. It was only in the evening, when I washed the rest of the blood out of my hair in a river that I realized I had said goodbye forever.

This sounds ungrateful, I know. But I cannot forget the smug look in Duncan’s eyes when he said that now he got what he came for after all. I think he is actually pleased with how everything went.

Now I’m with him at Ostagar, with the king’s army and I am a Grey Warden. I cannot tell you what exactly is involved, there’s a ritual and magic and all, but I’m sworn to secrecy. But I am a Grey Warden. These last days have been more than crazy. I met mages, hounds, witches of the wild, darkspawn (those I killed) and the king. I met the king, King Cailan! And Loghain! Can you believe it? It would be so exciting if it were not for the battle tomorrow. We are fighting the darkspawn horde tomorrow. Duncan says that this is the Blight and Alistair, his right hand, another Warden, agrees. So does the King. Loghain not so much. I… I don’t know what to think and I just realized I babble. This must be so confusing for you, I’m sorry.

In short: there are disagreements about how the battle should be going and as nice as the King is, I’m not sure he truly understands what’s happening. He did not see death and horror as we have and he doesn’t really believe anything bad will happen. It’s all glory and history and story to him. But Aren, I had dreams. After the Joining, the ritual that made me a Warden, I had terrible dreams… of an archdemon. Only I don’t think it was a dream. Tomorrow will be bloody and full of horror. And even if I survive, I have no idea what my life will be afterwards.

It feels like my soul is still in Denerim and has not caught up with me yet. Duncan does not ever mention what happened. To him, I am a Warden now, equal and as if I’ve always been a Warden. But everything happened so fast. A few days ago I was a nobody, overlooked by guards and beggars, I was a knife-ear that could be groped without repercussions. Now I am “mylady” and people are respectful. I talk to kings and mages and heroes and do not lack food or clothes or weapons. I prepare for a battle that will likely decide the fate of Ferelden and I have an important task that could tip the scales in the battle.

That’s not me. I don’t know how to deal with it. I wish you were here to talk me through it.

Aren, whatever happens, please stay safe, alright? I hope this letter reaches you healthy and strong and sate and happy. I hope this letter reaches you at all.

May the Maker watch over you.

Yours always,

Fian


	2. Pity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fian finds herself face to face with an infamous assassin who tried - and failed - to kill her

Fian looked down at the man before her. He hadn’t even tried to get up, but had answered every question unwaveringly despite the uncomfortable position he found himself in. Oh, he knew how to use his charms, that much was obvious but then she didn’t expect anything less from someone trained as an assassin. It was a gift born of necessity that was only too familiar to her. The reading of someone’s mood and preferences to adjust her own behaviour as to be seen as less of a threat was something she had used herself quite a few times in the alienage. Just like he did everything to try and sell them his services but not once tried to move.

The way he talked and flirted told her more than he probably had wanted to show. She knew her emotions were being manipulated but despite that she felt pity for him. ‘But don’t let my sad story influence you’, he had said as if that would just erase what he had told them. Bought as a child and trained to be an assassin, and while seemingly provided with luxuries not even paid for his gruesome services. It sounded like slavery to her even if they might not call it that. And from what he said, he would literally do anything to stay alive.

She swirled her dagger in one hand and his eyes darted to the weapon. He didn’t show any sign of fear and she had to confess that it impressed her. It was nearly as if he didn’t mind what happened to him, whether she decided to spare him or not. Sure, she could hear the hope in his voice as he bargained for his life but it was faint, as if he didn’t even dare to admit its existence to himself.

“Very well,” she said quietly. “I accept your offer.”

“What?!” Alistair exclaimed, disbelief written all over his face, “you’re taking the assassin with us now? Does that really seem like a good idea?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Fian answered, without taking her eyes off Zevran who stared back at her as if he couldn’t quite believe himself that she had actually decided not to kill him, “we could use him.”

She offered her hand to the elf still laying before her and after a second of hesitation, the Antivan took it and got up. Alistair seemed not convinced but after a moment of contemplation grumbled, “Alright, I see your point. Still, if there was a sign we were desperate, I think it just knocked on the door and said hello.”

She couldn’t argue with that but it didn’t matter. They were desperate.

Zevran still looked at Fian, his eyes serious as he said, “I hereby pledge my loyalty to you, until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation… this I swear.”

His grip tightened for a moment, then he let go again and Fian gave him a careful smile. “Welcome to our group of desperates, Zevran.” She gave the others a sign and they gathered their weapons and what useful things they had looted from their attackers and started the way back to their little caravan.

Zevran waited until she indicated for him to join them before he fell into place next to her. Fian introduced the others before she added, “I hope you don’t mind that I keep your daggers for the time being.”

Something like amusement flashed over his face and he inclined his head. “Ah, I knew you were a smart woman from the moment you decided to keep me.”

She stopped dead in her tracks and grabbed his arm. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear,” she said, a sharp note in her voice. Zevran stopped as well, wariness written all over his face. His body was tense but he did not try to free himself from her grip. Fian locked eyes with him. “There is no ‘keeping you’. I’m not keeping you.” His eyebrows went up at her words but when she continued, the alarm she could see in his features changed to surprise. “Nobody here is ‘keeping’ you. You’re not a pet, not a slave. Nobody here will use you for - what was it? Bedwarming or shining armor or whatever you said you’d do. You are your own man. And you will be judged by your actions. So, that means you play your part in keeping us all alive and fed and help in setting up oder breaking camp. But there is no ‘keeping’ you.”

Something softened in his eyes at her words but when she was finished, all he did was sigh dramatically. “A pity. About the bedwarming, I mean.”

He gave her a flirtatious wink and she rolled her eyes as she let go of his arm. “You’re still not getting your daggers.”

Zevran laughed softly as they started to walk again.

It was no surprise that everyone was weary around Zevran this first evening but he barely seemed to notice. And it was hard to keep up a distrustful atmosphere when he so easily and naturally inserted himself into their group, offering a helping hand here or there, flirting with everyone and not once making a suspicious movement. When they all had settled down after their meal, injuries tended to and tents being ready, Fian found herself watching him at the other side of the fire, sitting just a little bit off. She was cleaning her daggers when Leliana sat down next to her a bit too casual to be coincidence.

Fian raised her eyebrows and Leliana grinned. “So, tell me, my dear Warden, what is the true reason you spared him?”

“What do you mean?” she answered evasively and turned her gaze back to her weapons.

“Oh, come on. ‘We could use him’? Really? Alistair might fall for that but I won’t.” There was amusement in Leliana’s voice. “What was it? His thighs? The smile? The general handsomeness?”

“Leliana!” Fian exclaimed, the tips of her ears turning red just the tiniest bit and her friend laughed. “You can tell me!” she assured her and the Warden sighed.

“Alright. I’ll tell you but you’re not gonna like it,” she said, lowering her voice when she saw Zevran looking over to them. He gave her another wink and slightly inclined his head to her and she quickly looked back to Leliana. “I pitied him,” she admitted quietly.

The amusement on Leliana’s face softened to something Fian couldn’t quite interpret. “You’re wrong,” the woman said after a pause and gave her friend a smile. “I do like your answer.”


	3. A Letter after Lothering

_Somewhere between Lothering and the Circle, 9:30 Dragon_

Dear Aren,

I have no idea why I’m writing since I don’t have a clue how to deliver this letter other than personally but know this: I am alive and I am on my way to you.

I barely could believe it when I heard Templars in Lothering talking about how your guardians asked for the permission to kill all mages in your Circle and Alistair had to keep me from hitting them. Not my finest moment. They didn’t know what happened and so I don’t know but I’m so anxious to get to you. I do hope you’re alright!!

I wouldn’t know what to do if something happened to you as well.

The battle went wrong as horribly as I thought it might. The king is dead. So is Duncan. And all the rest of them except Loghain who is out to kill us. It gets crazier and crazier every time I turn around. What happened at home in Denerim seems so very far away now, like gathering dust, being lost in a fog, losing importance. It’s just a remembrance of something I can never have back. A normal life.

When we were overrun by the darkspawn, I was sure I was dead. And you know what? I was so mad about it. “Not now!” I remember thinking, right before I lost consciousness. I wanted to live. I hadn’t known I still have that will to live after everything. But I do. I do. I want to live, I want to stop whining and use what the Maker gave me, use that respect everyone is showing me, use that “mylady” and “Oh, sorry, I…” I get to do something with it. To change something. If I show the people I meet that we elves matter as much as they do, maybe something will change for the better.

And I woke up again, alive. The Witch of the Wild, you remember me writing about her? She saved us. Her name is Flemeth and something about her makes me uneasy - not exactly in a bad way, just in a… weird way. As if something in me tingles when I look at her. I don’t know how she saved us and neither she nor her daughter Morrigan would tell us, except for stories of “turning into a giant bird”. Right. But however she did it - both Alistair (who turns out to be a really nice if sometimes a bit naive fellow) and I are safe. And not only safe, on our way to try and fix this whole mess by securing the help of several people. We even have ancient contracts we can use! Hey, I survived the alienage, Vaughan, the Joining, Ostagar, darkspawn, why not use this to save Ferelden? Let’s stop this Blight (for it is one, I assure you). Easy peasy.

Yes, that was sarcasm. In case you wondered.

We are not alone anymore. Alistair and I, I mean. Morrigan came along and a Bard-turned-Chantry-Sister, Leliana, who came to our help when we were attacked by Loghain's men in Lothering. Surprisingly enough, she knows her way around a bow quite efficiently! We also freed a Qunari, Sten, who is a murderer. Yes, you heard correctly. And yes, I know it sounds crazy but… I am a murderer too, am I not? He would have been left for the darkspawn. Not only is this not a death I'd wish on anyone but both Leliana and Morrigan made quite the case for him. He also is quite handy with a sword, which helps a lot. And while we’re telling outrageous and crazy stuff which just perfectly fit this whole crazy and overwhelming situation I find myself in - another murderer joined us. An elven assassin, to be exact. Who was hired by Loghain to kill me. He did not manage to kill us (really, Leliana and Sten do know what they're doing with their weapons) and gave himself over to me for judgement, fully expecting me to kill him.

I cannot tell you what exactly made me spare him. Maybe it was how he obviously expected to die. Or how surprisingly open he was. “I wasn’t paid for silence”, he said and told me everything I wanted to know. A lot of humour, sarcasm and wit, and behind it… something I recognized. Suffering, as old as he is. He was genuinely surprised when I did not kill him but he played it down by immediately starting to flirt with everyone around him. Before you worry: they all check my food and drinks in case he wants to finish his job but all he does is laugh at them. His name is Zevran. I actually do believe him when he says that he is loyal to me and our cause, at least for the moment. Not only did he not try to kill me because of a personal reason but only because he was paid to do it (so he really has no grudge against me), his failing to kill me made him expandable to the Antivan Crows. More than expandable, actually, it made him a target himself. If he is not with us because he likes us, he is with us because he knows we are the only protection he has. So whatever reason he has, I'll take it for the moment. And I do enjoy his flirting. It brightens a journey that is mostly filled with darkness. (Before you ask: yes, he really is handsome.)

…

He actually just came over to peek over my shoulder and ask who I was writing to. “A lover? A husband? Tell me every dirty detail!” I shooed him away, feeling a bit embarrassed without really knowing why. He laughed and went to torment Alistair.

There are times this feels normal. I actually like the people I’m travelling with and there are moments when it’s beautiful. When we’re gathered around the camp fire, eating. Watching the sparks go up and disappear in the night between the stars. Waking up to the song of birds in the morning. Then I can forget the craziness and just be… even better than I ever was at home.

Then I can forget that I’m writing this to distract myself from the growing fear that I’ll arrive at the Circle to find you dead. Please don’t be dead.

Fian

P.S.: I have a dog now. A mabari even. His name is Wrex. You’ll adore him!


	4. Abomination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrival at the Circle Tower

She had never seen so many books in one place. There had been times where she had looked in faint wonder through the windows of one or another bookshop back in Denerim but this was something else entirely. Fian stared at the rows upon rows of shelves, one volume thicker than the other, bound in thick leather and engraved with the most beautiful letters. It was only now that she saw the piles of books lying on the floor, half torn or the back broken. It was as if the shelves hadn’t been able to contain all the knowledge they held and just spilled them outwards, over the tables and chairs down onto the stony, worn floor. How was it possible to possess that kind of wealth? Fian wasn’t even aware that her mouth stood open in wonder as she took another step inside the library, careless in her astonishment.

 

A flash of lightning zapped past her and made her jump. “Abomination!” Wynne didn’t wait for her as she engaged the three abhorrent creatures of bulgy, mutated flesh that bore near to no resemblance to an actual person. Torn-looking flesh stretched over half of its face, distorting it into a grimace of rage and madness, the shoulders and upper arms heavy with raw muscle and the arms ending in clawlike fingers. She had never seen anything like it. Not even the undead from Redcliffe came close to… this. Fian made a step backwards without meaning to, her feeling of wonder abruptly replaced by one of absolute horror.

“By the Maker,” she heard Alistair murmur, echoing her emotions as they watched the creatures writhe in the lightning bolt that Wynne had released and that jumped from one to the next.

“Warden!” Wynne’s sharp exclamation snapped Fian back to attention and she shoved any thought about what they saw deep down into the place of her mind where nightmares came from and gripped her daggers more tightly. Did it really matter what they fought? Abominations or undead or bandits? They all wanted to kill them just the same.

 

And they died all the same, she thought some minutes later as she stood over the last of them, breathing heavily as she wiped her daggers and sheathed them. The room was clear for now and Fian went over to one of the shelves, running a finger over the many books. “Is there something in here about the Blight, maybe?” she asked, looking at Wynne for a moment before she took one of the books out, leafing through it just for the feeling of the pages beneath her fingers.

“I… I cannot tell you,” Wynne sighed and took a step closer, letting her eyes wander over the shelves herself. Her face was pained and tired as she took the damage in that the several fights the library had seen these days had left. “But I would be surprised if not.”

“Then we should come back and look for one, after we dealt with Uldred,” Fian answered and put the book back.

“Do you really think that a _book_ will help us?” Alistair interjected without trying to hide his annoyance. She gave him a look from narrowed eyes, shaking her head at him. “No, but it might give us an idea what to do if those alliances we’re seeking fail.”

“A plan B. Good thinking, my dear Warden,” Zevran nodded from the side where he leaned against a shelf in a deceptively relaxed stance. Fian saw that he had positioned himself in a way that would enable him to see down both aisles in case they had missed a straggler. When he met her eyes, he gave her a smile and a wink. Quickly, she looked back at the shelf, suddenly self-conscious.Neither Alistair nor Wynne seemed to be aware of her reaction even as she cleared her throat.

“Take what you need - if you can find it in the chaos,” the elder mage nodded and grabbed her staff more tightly as she looked around.

“Yeah, let’s go for that plan B when we can be sure there are no more of these abominations in the tower, alright?” Alistair asked and Fian sighed as she drew her eyes away from the book shelves with an effort. She really did not want to face more of these monsters but it was not like they had a choice here. She nodded and turned towards the stairs that led up.

“Alright. Let’s go find First Enchanter Irving first.” And Aren. She just prayed to the Maker that she wouldn't recognize her cousin in one of those abominations. For she didn't know how she would react if she did.


	5. Training

“And you’re dead again," Alistair said drily, taking the blunt sword he used for practice from her belly.

“Damn it," muttered Fian and stepped back, wiping sweaty hair out of her eyes. They’d been practising the whole morning and she still couldn’t get that move right. It was already a week since the Circle and slowly they had found back to a sort of routine.

“I don’t know what I do wrong," she exclaimed and sighed.

“Ah, you’ll get it eventually," Alistair said good-natured and they went to the side where their coats and a waterskin waited.

“Sure, sure, and if not, it doesn’t matter because I’ll be dead next time we meet darkspawn," Fian answered exasperated and nodded thankfully when Alistair passed on the waterskin.

 

“Now, my dear, don’t be extreme," a teasing voice said behind her and she looked up to see Zevran leaning at a tree not far away. He grinned. “I’ll be there to protect you.”

He made his way to them and she thought she heard Alistair mutter something like: “That’s what I wanted to say.” Fian raised an eyebrow at Alistair who turned red and Zevran laughed. He threw himself down next to them, openly enjoying the view of the two Wardens who wore nothing but their undergarments from the waist up. It had been a surprisingly warm autumn morning and their training had been quite challenging.

Fian felt a familiar tingling in her belly when their eyes met and quickly overplayed it with a dry “That is so sweet, Zev, really.”

“Anything for you, my dear," he answered smoothly with this certain twinkle in his eyes and Fian felt herself smiling at him. It was stupid, really. Fian knew she wasn’t special. He flirted with everyone. Even Bodhan had been the target of a certain remark.

 

“Another round?" Alistair asked and she nodded with a sigh.

“How does one say? Fourteen’s a charm?”

He chuckled and they took up their weapons. They took positions and Fian forced her thoughts away from the elf watching from the side. Deep breath in and she nodded to Alistair who raised his shield. “Go.” Their blades collided with a loud clang, Fian swirled back and down, bringing her dagger up, barely deflecting Alistair’s sword and missing his shield bash just by an inch. But before she could side-step him to slash her blades over his side, he turned the blade around, levered the sword out of her hand and pushed her to the ground with the shield.

“Dead again.”

“Outch," she said with a wince as he helped her up. Frustrated, she rubbed a hand over her arm. That would bruise.

“Sorry," he said apologetically but she waved it away. “Better now with you than tomorrow with a Hurlock. Again.”

They took positions but before she could signal Alistair to start, Zevran called from the side.

“Fian. Let me show you, yes?” Fian looked over to him and saw that he already rolled up his sleeves and was on his way to her. She hesitated for a second, then nodded. He was, after all, the expert in this way of fighting.

 

He came up behind her. “Like this.” His hands came around her to reposition her arms. Zevran’s breath tickled her ear and she could feel his body moving ever so slightly against hers, not actually improper but suggesting. Her ears began to feel hot.

“Now. Slowly, alright?” he said to Alistair who seemed uncomfortable but nodded. Zevran guided her through the motion, firm but softly and she couldn’t help but think: ‘That’s how he makes love.’ Suddenly, she was glad that they had been training the whole morning so she had an excuse for being breathless. Again, Alistair brought his shield forward and turned the blade around, but this time, Zevran’s foot nudged Fian’s in the right direction and suddenly it was easy to side-step Alistair and bring her blades across his unprotected body for a change.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, realizing her error. So simple yet so important.

“See?” Zevran said, and she turned her face toward him and smiled. For a second their eyes locked and she could feel his breath on her lips. Oh dear. Something like a charge passed between them and she felt his hands tighten ever so slightly over hers.

Alistair cleared his throat awkwardly and the moment passed. Zevran let go of her and she stepped away. Glancing at  Alistair she clicked her tongue at Zevran. “You could’ve just told me what I did wrong," she said and he grinned.

“Ah, but that was much more fun, no? Come. Show me what I taught you.” Fian shook her head but smiled. He was right. It had been more fun this way.

“Ready?” Alistair’s voice brought her back to reality and she nodded.

“Go.”

Clash, turn, swirl, step and - “Ha!” she exclaimed joyfully as she had Alistair’s throat between her blades. Even he grinned while Zevran applauded from the tree. “See? More fun _and_ you managed it. Good work!”

Of course he stayed and watched overly lurid while they washed themselves then joined them on their way back to the camp, jocking and flirting pointedly with Alistair, enjoying the human’s uneasiness, who immediately vanished into his tent when they reached it. Even Fian couldn’t suppress a chuckle but reprimanded Zevran nonetheless. He waved her words away.

“Come on. Someone has to teach him the way of life.”

“You are the worst”, she grinned and he smiled. “I do my best.”


	6. Snowflakes on the river

They had taken an early rest that day when Wynne and Morrigan’s argument about one kind of magic or another got so heated that Wynne started shouting. Which was terrifying in itself (and even Morrigan looked mildly impressed) but then Wynne threw her pack down there and then and proclaimed she was going to show Morrigan REAL magic which was when everyone else hurriedly got out of the way.

Wynne and Morrigan were still at it when they had put up camp and everyone started to take some downtime. Sten and Alistair stood somewhere in the vicinity of where Wynne’s Shield got battered by Morrigan’s magic strikes and commented in a rare scene of warrior comradery on the battle worthiness of the show, before Leliana commanded them back to camp to help with making supper. Fian got in a fit of giggles when she saw Sten unbelievingly staring at the knife Leliana gave him for peeling potatoes while Alistair complained all the way through a whole pot of carrots. Fian busied herself with Wrex and important looking maps but Leliana wouldn’t have any of it.

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of it. Go get some water, will you?”

Fian sighed exaggeratedly and got up. “Yes, ma’am.” She saluted mockingly and took the pot Leliana gave her and headed to the nearby river. Behind her, she heard Leliana’s voice: “Now where is that assassin when you need him?”

 

It was a cold day and the first snowflakes danced in the air, so seeing a half naked Zevran emerging from the river was not something Fian expected. A small “Oh” escaped her when she saw the droplets running down his lean, muscular body covered with scars, his wet hair clinging to his beautiful face. Her first instinct was to turn around and leave him alone but something of a conversation she had with him just the other night came to her mind. Something about seizing the moment and and living while you can. She stopped and a small smile played around her lips while she watched him rub the dirt and sweat from his body. He really was beautiful - despite (or because?) of the many scars that spoke of pain and endurance. When she watched how the muscles played beneath his tattoos which sometimes crossed, sometimes went along the scars, she realized  _ how much _ pain his body spoke of and she felt a pang of deep ache for him. How was it that he had endured and experienced so much and still was such a positive, life-embracing person? He never lacked a smile, never missed a flirt or an answer, playing everything down.

Fian had a feeling that his exuberance was kind of like his tattoos: covering scars that ran deeper than he cared to admit. And at the same time, there were moments where she caught his eye and saw a true smile in it. Or she heard him breathe in deeply when they came across an especially beautiful sight. When he laughed with Leliana or Morrigan or in a fight. A bloodsmeared smile after a good battle. These were moments when she felt like he actually was Zev. The true Zev, not the playful person he pretended to be.

 

Her smile had softened without her even realizing it, while she watched him, lost in her thoughts. It took her a second for her to notice that he was looking directly at her, a grin in his face. “Fian?” he finally asked and she shook herself out of her reverie. “What?” she retorted and came down to the river to fill the pot for Leliana. “Did you think you were the only one that gets to stare luridly?” He threw his head back and laughed, before extending a hand to her, a cocky, inviting smile on his face. “Care to join me?” It was clear from his manner that he didn’t expect her to actually come over.

Their eyes locked and she felt like there was something there that had been missing before. Her grin softened in a smile and she said with a tease: “Maybe someday I will.”

His raised eyebrow betrayed the surprise he felt and Fian laughed, feeling giddy and strangely excited all the way back to camp.


	7. Another Letter from Ostagar

_Ostagar, 9:30 Dragon **  
**_

Dearest Aren,

Yes, you read right - I’m back in Ostagar. And yes, I can just imagine your “What - why - what?!” Please do not worry about me. There was something we needed to find here, which we did. We even found King Cailan’s body and laid him to rest. After we finished off the last of the darkspawn that were roaming around, so for the moment we’re safe, really.

I cannot believe how long it took me to get around to another letter after my last anxious one. But then, I could barely believe what happened in the Circle and then at Redcliffe. 

It was such a relief to find you alive. Seriously, by the time I did, I had nearly lost all hope. Or I should rather say: I had forbidden myself to feel hope. The horrors I saw in that tower… Every step I took, every corner I turned, I expected to stumble over your body. Or even worse, to see your eyes in the face of an abomination. Please forgive me for saying that, but it’s true. It’s not that I doubt your strength or that I thought you’d willingly give yourself over to Uldred or one of his minions but after what I experienced in the Fade I didn’t think anybody would be able to resist him. I wouldn’t have, hadn’t it been for Niall and the Litanny of Andralla. Even Wynn said she doesn’t know if she could have without it, but you did. You did. Little cousin, do you realize how extraordinary that is?

Aren, I am so, so very proud of you. More than that, I am amazed. The Fade… how can you face that every day? Do you face it every day? I’m so ashamed that I never really realized what it actually means to be a mage - that I never thought to ask. I always figured it was just like having a really dangerous and uncontrollable talent. But it’s so much more, isn’t it? The strength you and the other mages possess, the willpower - I’m not sure I’d be able to handle it. But then, nobody is ever ready for hardship and somehow most still struggle through. But still, I mean it when I say I have a new respect for your craft and you and your fellow mages. And seeing you “in action”, so to speak, when you and the others came with Irving to Redcliffe to enable Morrigan to save Connor - it really was a sight.

I’m very thankful that you came. I know how much you wanted to get away from Lake Calenhad. And I don’t blame you in the least, after everything that happened. Do you know yet whether the Circle in Starkhaven accepts you? How many others will you take with you? If you’re already on the way or even arrived, please try and let me know how you are as soon as you can! Pether said he’ll do everything he can to deliver any messages to and fro. (It’s kind of weird to have a Tranquil in the group but he is efficient.) Knowing that you’re safe will give me some peace. At least one of my family. I still haven’t been able to contact Shianni, Soris or Father. If you hear anything, please let me know.

After Redcliffe, I fulfilled a promise to Morrigan and went back into the Korcari Wilds to see her mother, Flemeth. You remember, the Witch that saved Alistair and me from the tower in Ostagar? A book from the Circle had told Morrigan that her mother was an abomination, taking over the bodies of her daughters, one after another, to live eternally and Morrigan made me promise to kill Flemeth. Yes, I can see you frowning and yes, I share your doubts about that story. Plus, I owed Flemeth my life. I didn’t kill her even though I think Flemeth is… more than meets the eye. She knew we would come, she even expected us to kill her - or at least try to. When I didn’t, she gave me her Grimoire so that I could pass it on to Morrigan. I confess, I lied to Morrigan and told her I had killed Flemeth. I didn’t want her to think I let her down - and she had what she wanted, the Grimoire. And some peace of mind. Was I wrong?

> _Dear Aren, Fian is writing again but carelessly left to soothe her dog or something. Which gives me the perfect opportunity to ensure you that I plan to keep her very safe just as I promised you. And I take my promises very serious. Yes, that one too, you know of which I speak, my beautiful Warden-cousin. Please imagine me winking now. Thank you. Even though I fear I have to be jealous of you after all of all her letters to you. Ah she comes back, I better leave. Kiss kiss, Zev_

UGH, I cannot believe he did that! He is unbelievable! But while we’re at it - Alistair says hi, Leliana asks how you are doing and if you had the chance to try a dark green velvet yet (what is she talking about? Do I want to know?) and that she’ll send you the name of a certain shoemaker and Wynne sends her warmest wishes and I shall tell you that she is very proud of you and promises to visit in Starkhaven as soon as she can.

… alright, I need to know - what promise is Zev talking about? Ah, forget it, I don’t want to know. I saw him flirting with you and can just imagine what kind of promise he made. Shall I tell him that he is so very much the wrong gender? Or shall I let him discover it for himself? Both variations have their merit.

Did I mention he is unbelievable? Every time I ask him something, he says something like “Alright, but I get to stare at you luridly while you do so.” Which annoys me far less than it should.

Oh sweet Andraste, this is bad, isn’t it? I shouldn’t like him. Then again - if not now, when? But doesn’t it distract me too much from my duty? … that I didn’t choose or want but which was the one thing that made me meet him. I’ll just try to enjoy and take the days how they come. That’ll be the best. Not too much thinking, not too many ideas and plans, just… taking everything as it comes.

I sold Nelaros’ wedding ring to buy supplies. I had found it on his body after he was killed and I kept it. For months I kept it, always close to my heart. A remembrance to him, to home, to family, to what I left behind. I had it with me on the way to Ostagar, during the battle. It kept me sane in the Wilds and gave me peace after seeing the smoke clouds of the burning Lothering, mere days behind us. I sold it after what happened in the Circle.

Afterwards, the ring had lost it’s meaning. I looked at it and it was just a trinket. Something a man I never really knew never had the chance to give to me. Something out of a past that belongs to another person. I’m not who I used to be. It reminded me of times that were /before/ and it had lost its meaning. I sold it for ten silvers. I do hope, Nelaros, wherever he is, understands. It’s not that I don’t value him for what he did - he died trying to save me. He was the first person to ever do something like that for me and I will always remember that. But I felt that I needed to let go of that past. I no longer need saving.

Next week it’s First Day. A new year. The first year for me that doesn’t start in the Alienage. I pray to the Maker that it won’t end there either.

Happy new year, little cousin. Be happy, wherever you are! May we meet again.

Many blessings,

Fian


	8. Companions

“Ah, writing to your baby cousin again, I see? Are you sure I don’t have to be jealous?”

Fian looked up and gave Zevran a cheeky grin. “Now, why would you be jealous, my darling assassin?”

Zevran’s brow shot up approvingly. “Darling assassin? That I could get used to.”

Fian laughed and shook her head, before she went back to her writing. Zevran sat down next to her and put another branch into the fire.

Fian continued writing for several more minutes before his chuckles made her put the quill down.

“What is it?” she asked defensively when she realized he laughed at her. He held up his hands but still laughed.

“You do realize what faces you make while writing? That crumbled brow, anxious look, tongue tip between your lips, then you start to smile then-”

Fian felt her cheeks grow hot and looked at him horrified. “Seriously?”

He laughed again. “Ah, my dear that is nothing to be ashamed of. It is rather adorable in fact.”

“Right.” She gave him a look but he only grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

“Adorable," he stressed. “Especially when you only half-smile and get that little dimple right…” his fingertip touched her cheek, “here.”

That did nothing to lessen the heat in Fian’s face and she tried to overplay it by rather lamely repeating “Right.” and then mumbling something about Wrex ruining Alistair’s shoes again to have an excuse to get away from Zev for a second. She barely had taken three steps away from him (who was still grinning) when Leliana came after her and sang a soft “He is so hot for you!” in her ear.

“Yeah sure," Fian said drily and Leliana laughed. “Fian, it is so obvious, you cannot tell me you do not see it!”

Fian repressed the urge to look back to Zevran and just shrugged. “Even if, I’m not sure I am for him.”

Now it was Leliana’s turn to say: “Yeah, sure.” She gave her friend a look that spoke volumes and Fian sighed, feeling helpless.

“Alright, alright.” She raked her fingers through her hair and her throat felt dry when she finally admitted: “I am.”

Leliana beamed. “Then what is the problem?”

They were finally at the edge of the camp, where Wrex snored peacefully. Fian stared out into the darkness. “I don’t know. I guess, the problem is that…”

After a moment of silence, Leliana prompted: “Yes?”

“I like him," Fian said with a heavy sigh.

“Ohhhh.” Leliana nodded knowingly and not at all surprised.

Hastily, Fian added: “At least I think I do. And it’s… I don’t think he likes me that way. You know? He likes me, sure, and he probably wouldn’t protest if I suggested, you know, sex, but I guess that’s about it. And I’m not sure that would be about it for me. Plus, we have a mission, a kind of world-saving important mission, I shouldn’t distract myself, shouldn’t get distracted and… ugh.”

“I see," Leliana nodded.

 

“You’re not surprised," Fian stated and Leliana laughed. “Oh Fian, no, I’m not. But do not worry, I don’t think many of the others saw what I saw. I am trained to look behind such banter, don’t you forget.” She put an arm around Fian’s shoulders while they slowly made their way around camp. “Fian, don’t you think you deserve a little downtime now and then? Especially because of that world-saving mission? I never saw you walk astray because you stared at Zevran’s behind or lose a fight because you were moon-headed. You never stopped for his sake nor did you lose our mission out of sight because of him. Why would you start now?”

Fian had put an arm around her friend herself and sighed. “I don’t know… but I can see Wynne disapprove every time I so much as look at Zev. And I feel like Alistair is jealous.”

Leliana waved a hand. “Ah, now that is his problem, not yours, no? And don’t take Wynne so seriously. I think she disapproves of everything not related to the mission. I believe her time of romance is too long ago to remember anything like it.” Fian and Leliana shared a girly giggle before they went back to the fire where Morrigan looked disapprovingly at Zevran who wrote on Fian’s letter.

 

Fian bristled. “Hey!” she called and let go of Leliana to snatch the quill out of Zevran’s hand. She glared at him. “That’s my letter!”

“I just wanted to add a little message to Aren myself, is that so bad?”

Before Fian could answer, Leliana joined in: “Oh, while you’re at it, ask her how she is and if she tried that green velvet we talked about and I’ll sent her the name of this shoemaker as soon as I remember, yes?”

“You’re writing to Aren?” Alistair came to the fire, looking dishevelled. He had obviously fallen asleep. “Tell her, I said hi.” He yawned and took a piece of bread.

Fian sighed and looked at Morrigan. “You also want me to tell her something from you?”

Morrigan pulled a face. “Now, why would I do that? ‘Tis unlikely the letter ever finds her. If we meet her again, I’ll talk to her myself. No need to waste your letter for my words.”

Fian caught her eye and they shared a small smile. Morrigan nodded nearly imperceptible. By now, everyone had joined them at the fire and helped themselves to something to eat. Fian looked around. “Sten?” - “No.” - “Wynne?”

The older mage smiled approvingly. “Thank you for asking, very kind of you. Yes, if you have a few lines, please send Aren my warmest wishes and tell her that I’m proud of her. If we survive this…” This warranted some groans around the fire. No-one liked to be reminded of the danger they faced daily. Wynne was unperturbed. “... I’ll make sure to visit her at Starkhaven. Can you tell her that? Thank you.”

 

Fian went back to her writing while the conversations washed around her, accompanied by the crackling of the fire. She couldn’t get the conversation she had with Leliana out of her head and by the end of the letter, she felt melancholy. For a second she just stared into the flames, her last words to Aren echoing through her mind.  _ The first year for me that doesn’t start in the Alienage. I pray to the Maker that it won’t end there either.  _ It was true. And implied so much more than she could ever convey in a letter. She hoped that Aren, who had escaped the Alienage herself, would understand and not judge.

 

“Here.”

She looked up and smiled when she saw Alistair had put some dinner together for her. “Thank you, Alistair.” Fian put the sealed letter aside and took the plate out of Alistair’s hands.

He sat down next to her. “Are you alright? You look a bit sad,” he said quietly and she nodded. “I’m just… the letter made me think about the past.”

“Oh," he said sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It made me realize that I never want to go back. Which is good, I suppose, but which also means some good-byes and probably disappointing my family.”

“Oh," Alistair said again and sounded surprised. She raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged. “It’s just… I often wish I  _ could _ go back. You know. To when the Wardens were still alive. When Duncan was still alive.” They were silent for a moment, then Fian took his hand to squeeze it, before she let go again. She did notice his hopeful look and it made her sad. She just couldn’t reciprocate.

“I never really belonged to the Wardens," she said softly and shrugged. His face fell but she continued anyway. “And other than you, I didn’t have a real choice, so I don’t really miss them. What it did, however, is show me a life other than the one I always thought I’d have. I’m thankful for that. But I don’t wish them back.” Alistair stared into the fire. Clearly, he had hoped for a shared moment of the same emotions. Fian didn’t quite know what to say, so after a moment she got up. Alistair looked up and gave her a kind of sad smile. She gave his shoulder a squeeze and went to give Pether the letter for Aren. He had his ways of delivering, she was sure of it.

 

When she went back towards her tent, she hesitated as her eyes fell on Zevran who had started to clean his blades. Lelianas words came to her and for a second, Fian was tempted to just go over and invite Zev to her tent. Enjoy the moment, right? But before she could bring herself to do something, Wynne came over and started talking to a surprised-looking Zevran, not after giving Fian a disapproving look.

“Tsk," Leliana said next to her and shook her head at Wynne.

Fian jumped.  “How did you-”

“Tomorrow, I’ll distract Wynne and you go talk to Zev, alright?” She winked at Fian and went back to play her lute. Fian blinked. After a moment, a smile spread across her face and she joined Leliana, listening to her friend’s music while she herself got some blade cleaning done.


	9. Stories in the Night

“They actually exist!” Fian exclaimed, waving her hands excitedly. Leliana laughed and shook her head at her friend. “You could have know from the contracts.” Alistair pointed at Leliana, nodding vigorously while chewing, gesturing a  _ That’s what I wanted to say.  _

Fian waved dismissively. “Yes, yes, theoretically yes, but these contracts are old, really old. They could name the griffons as allies, for all I know. Don’t you understand? The Dalish are a myth among my people. Nobody really believes the exist, everybody hopes they do because it would mean there is another way of living instead of the Alienages.”

“Tell me, Warden, why would someone live a life they don’t like.” Sten’s question was formed like statement, like so often. Fian assumed he wanted to make a point and would soon start something about the Qun again but his question-statement did give her pause.

Her excitement vanished like a cloud in the sun and for a second she just stared at him. “You talk as if we have a choice," she finally said, her voice edged with frost.

“Of course you do," Sten said sternly, completely ignoring her attitude. “You tell stories of the land you elves once had. Why don’t you get up and take it back?”

Fian felt Zevran stiffen slightly next to her, even though he did not look up. She forced herself to take a deep breath before she answered: “And what would be the point in getting ourselves slaughtered, Sten?”

The Qunari stared at her. “I do not understand.”

She laughed a small, humorless laugh. “No, you obviously don’t. It’s hard to imagine a life other than the one you’ve always had. When you’ve been told you’re worthless your whole life, you start to believe it. When you’ve been used and put down your whole life, at one point you stop standing up. We are considered pretty and thus humans don’t kill us all but beware if we’re trying to become more than servants that can be raped at will. Why don’t you ask the humans why they put us in Alienages? Why they wouldn’t let us leave?”

She stood up, avoiding looking at her human companions who had stopped eating. An uncomfortable silence had fallen at her words and she mumbled an excuse before leaving the fire.

Wrex came to her side and pressed himself against her legs, feeling her distress. She heard Morrigan’s annoyed “Well done, Sten” behind her but didn’t stop. She needed a moment for herself.

 

Sometimes it she forgot they were not her people. They fought together, lived together, traveled together, but some of the most basic things they would never get. Because they didn’t know. They couldn’t know. They hadn’t lived through it. And thus, they couldn’t share her excitement about the part of the people not living the servant’s life. They didn’t even understand that her skills with the blades were not something one would normally find in an Alienage. Those who learned to fight left and became murderers or thieves or disappeared. Like she did.

 

Fian collected her daggers and made her way out of the camp, Wrex at her side. She felt like she couldn’t stand the presence of humans near her for a while but she wasn’t suicidal. She made her way to a little clearing not too far off where she sat down on a rock and told Wrex to play. Watching him would take her mind off the conversation.

 

The sudden noise of a breaking branch made her swirl around, daggers at the ready. Zevran held his hands up. “Now, don’t start killing me now after we’ve come so far, my dear.” Fian let out a sigh. “Zev.” The only person she didn’t mind right now. She settled down again and gave him a small smile. Wrex came over and welcomed Zevran happily, before going back to hunting rabbits. “Here," he said and gave her a wineskin. “I thought you could use some.” “Thank you," she said quietly and took a sip. He sat next down to her and for a while they were both silent.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked after a few minutes and she nodded. He hesitated for a second and she looked up at him curiously but he avoided her gaze, obviously struggling with something. “Did it happen to you?” he finally asked. She raised a questioning eyebrow. “The rape?” Something clenched inside her and she didn’t answer immediately which seemed to confirm it for him. His eyes got cruel look and his fist clenched around one of his daggers. “Who do I need to kill for it?” he hissed. “I only need a name.”

Despite of herself she smiled and took another swing of the wineskin before she said: “I already killed them. For trying.” She gave the wineskin back to him and he also took a swing but the tension hadn’t left him. Fian took a deep breath. Maybe it was time to tell the story to someone. At least in parts.

 

“It was my... cousin’s wedding day.”

“Your cousin? Shianni, was it?”

Fian hesitated for just a second before she nodded. “Yes, Shianni.” Was it bad, the lying? But she still didn’t know how to tell him. How to tell anybody.  “But the marriage never actually happened. He was killed by the men trying to hurt us before the ceremony was finished.” “Oh.” Fian looked down at her fingers. She had plucked an early flower and started to pick it apart. “His name was Nelaros. They only met that day - marriages are arranged in the Alienage and he came from another city, so we’d - they’d never met before. We only exchanged a few words before the ceremony but he seemed like an honorable, good man. A smith’s son, handsome and honest.”

“Handsome, huh?”

Fian chuckled silently at the exaggerated doubt in Zev’s voice. She knew he was only trying to cheer her up with his usual banter. “Don’t worry, my darling assassin, quite another kind of handsome than you are.”

“Oh, so you think I’m handsome?”

She gave him a playful slap on the arm before continuing. “The arl’s son, Vaughan, came into the Alienage just two minutes into the ceremony. He needed some... whores for a private party. He had already made an entrance earlier that day and had been beaten by Shianni and he came looking for revenge. I tried to stop him...”

“Naturally," Zevran agreed but Fian’s next words, uttered in a stony, stoic way that betrayed the pain underneath it, stopped him short again.

“... so he beat me unconscious. When I woke up, I and three other women were in the arl’s estate. Shianni had already been taken by Vaughan to his… party. I had barely woken up when his guards came in, ordered to bring more and take some for themselves. Nola protested and was killed on the spot. I can still feel her warm blood running down my face… I don’t want to think about what would have happened, hadn’t Soris, Shianni’s brother, turned up at that very moment. He and Nelaros had fought their way into the keep. He gave me a sword and that was all I needed. I killed them. Then the next ones. And the ones after. I killed the ones who butchered Nola and the ones who cut Nelaros down right before my eyes. I killed everyone I met until I found Shianni but I was too late. They had already…”

 

Her voice gave out and for a long moment the silence stretched between them. Finally, Fian took a deep breath and wiped at her eyes, only then realizing that Zevran had taken her hand, holding it tenderly. “You know the hardest part? That she thanked me. I hadn’t been fast enough, I hadn’t protected her but she  _ thanked _ me. And now I’m not there anymore. And I’m so afraid to think about what’s happening there now.”

Zevran squeezed her hand so hard it nearly hurt but she welcomed the feeling. This pain she could deal with. He did not say anything but when she looked at him, she could see he understood her perfectly. She had never felt so close to him before.

 

Fian was nearly sure that a second had never lasted that long as the one when their eyes locked. The touch of their fingers became softer and Zevran’s thumb brushed over the back of her hand when suddenly Wrex barked and they both jumped. He stood before them, his short tail wagging excitedly, a dead hare lying directly in front of them. “Wrex!” Fian breathed, then patted his head. “Good boy. Well done. Bring it to Leliana, will you?” The dog barked again then took the hare and ran off towards the camp. She looked back at Zevran who smiled at her. But she could tell the moment was gone. “Thank you for listening. For understanding," she said and he nodded. “Anytime," he said easily, then stopped for a second, before his fingers tenderly touched her cheek. “ _ Any _ time," he stressed before letting her go again.

 

They slowly made their way back to the camp. “It’s a good thing you already killed them all," he said in his usual playful tone. “It would have been such an inconvenience to leave you now for Denerim just to kill a whole arl’s family.” Fian gave him a warm, grateful smile, knowing the gesture for what it was. “By the way," she said when they reached the camp. “What is  _ your _ opinion on the Dalish?”


	10. A Letter from the Brecilian Forest

_Brecilian Forest, 9:31 Dragon **  
**_

My dear Aren,

we actually made it to the Brecilian Forest and found the Dalish. The Dalish! Aren, do you understand what that means? There is another option to the Alienage (or the Circle)! Maybe Taedor’s brothers actually found them after all - not this clan but another, but this, the whole thing is so wonderful!

Ah, I probably sound silly to you. You have studied the Arcane, you have walked among demons and saved children and travelled the world. The Dalish are something more than a story to you, am I right? They never were for me and despite all of the talk of them, the treaties, the hints and clues - I never really believed they existed. Not as free and independent as they actually are.

Think me silly if you like but this means so much to me. Yes, I could have believed it beforehand like Alistair and Leliana say but somehow I didn’t dare. Just hoping that there are elves living not like we do felt… wrong. But now I know there are. And this makes so much possible.

However - ah, of course there is an “however”. However, nothing is as it seems. Or maybe not “nothing” but definitely not everything. As you know, I needed to approach the Dalish (and the dwarves, but I don’t know when I’ll be able to get to them…) to get their help in the fight against the Archdemon. But they were not at all in a position where they could actually help us. They had been attacked by werewolves, many hunters dead or injured. It was not only a matter of need but also of not honor but a feeling of… solidarity. I felt connected to them, felt like something was returned to me. I wear their armor, I talked with so many, listened to their stories, found so much even we in the Alienage still cherish. We are connected. We are of one people, share a common ground. I read whatever I could lay my hands on, drinking in the knowledge about their (our?) Gods, history, traditions. When all of this is over I will try and come back, live with them, at least for a while, learn whatever I can, bring whoever I can to them. I know of so many who would rather try their luck with hunting and travelling than live in the gutter…

But do not think I am blind. I see their faults, the problems. Talking to Zathrian, their keeper (kind of like their Hahren but with magic), the hunters - and later to the werewolves, I know their life can be cruel, too. And their revenge horrid. Zathrian’s children were raped and killed by humans, just for being elves and in turn, he laid a horrible curse on them, turning them into savage beasts. This was centuries ago and they learned to regain their sanity, trying to break the curse. Still they suffered, they and their children. I couldn’t really blame Zathrian, though - he still suffers himself, grieving for his children, always grieving. Maybe there would have been a possibility to make peace between them, but I couldn’t find it. I’m not sure I wanted to. In the end, we killed the weres. The Dalish that were sick were cured and thus, they are able to help us now. I have one of them travelling with us, giving him ressources when I find them so they can best prepare for the fight to come.

Oh, Aren, finding the Dalish somehow made it seem like everything might be possible. If they are possible, we might yet find a way to win this war. Finding the Urn of Sacred Ashes to cure Arl Eamon? Why in Andraste’s Name not?

Did you know that Zevran’s mother was Dalish as well? We talked about what we might do after all this is over and he’s not so opposed to the tought of staying with them for a while, if only to see where his mother came from. I can just see you raising your eyebrows and asking: “What _we_ might do…?” Yes, we. Stop hooting, little cousin, and yes, I remember that you said so. Don’t worry, I’ll get into a little more details. Yes, only a little, stop pestering me. Yes, he has quite some skill, no he’s not exaggerating when he says so. Stop grinning.

Over time, we grew closer and when he made his move, I did the stupid and best and most amazing thing and threw all my doubts and fears away and just went with it. And it is wonderful, it really is. I know I can trust him completely and even if this, whatever it is, ends one day, I need him near me at the moment. To rely on, to come ‘home’ to, to hold on. He means very, very much to me… I don’t know if he really feels the same for me, for he shuns every talk of emotions or love and insists that this is just fun. It hurt when I asked him about love and he dismissed it out of hand, saying that someone like him could never love. (Which in itself says so much.) When he got the (wrong) impression I had feelings for Alistair, he immediately said he would step down, getting out of Alistair’s way. But his eyes lit up when I said I only wanted him. He comes to me every night, sharing my tent, seeking me out, staying and being there for much more than sex. I don’t know what it is but it is more than fun between friends, whatever he says. And for the moment that is enough.

I hope you have settled in in Starkhaven and are happy. I hope, you can one day forget what happened. I have not forgotten my promise to see you as soon as I am able to and I’ll keep it, I promise. I want to hear everything about your studies and if you’ll choose a specification and which one.

Enclosed, you’ll find a magical amulet I found in the Forest. Wynne says it’s imbued with the natural forces of the Forest, whatever that exactly means - I hope, it protects you. Sending you my love,

Fian


	11. Why are we still talking?

When Fian approached Zevran the following night, she had a gift with her. His story about his mother and the gloves hadn’t left her that day and she had spent more time than she’d like to admit searching for a pair that matched his description. But the day in the Dalish camp had not been easy. There were more pointed looks and remarks about the “docile city elves” than she cared to admit and despite her familiarity with this sort of contempt she never had received it from other elves. It was hard seeing the difference between the life she knew and the life of her Dalish people. Maybe it was this what Zevran saw. He had been quiet throughout the evening but she had caught him looking at her several times until he nodded to himself as if he had come to some sort of conclusion.

 

Fian hadn’t wanted everyone to witness how she gave Zevran the gloves so she waited until most were asleep or at least in their tents before she went over to him. Somehow he seemed to have guessed she was up to something, because when he saw her coming towards him, he smiled as if he had been waiting for her and welcomed her with an inviting smile. Before she could say something, however, he pulled her down next to him and positioned himself behind her.

“Zev…?” she started curiously, wondering what he was up to but he started massaging her shoulders before she could finish her sentence.

“You look so tired, my dear. It is all this constant walking and fighting. I think I know what you need."

Fian involuntarily sighed as he skillfully kneaded her muscles. Still, she couldn’t resist teasing a bit.  “Oh? This I have to hear," she said and closed her eyes. He chuckled close to her ear and his lips brushed against her neck. She shivered slightly.

“My thought is this," he said, all the while working on her shoulders, “we retire to your tent and I show you the sort of massage skills one only learns growing up in an Antivan whorehouse.”

Fian’s eyes flew open and her heart started hammering. Was this… Did she hear him right? “Are you suggesting what I think you are?” she asked, her heart in her mouth. She had been dreaming of this moment for weeks now, always holding back, unsure of herself, him, all of this. Wynne had been given her a stern talk and more stern looks and sometimes she even thought the elder mage was right and she should concentrate on nothing but the mission. But could this really be wrong? She more felt than heard his chuckle.

“If you mean to ask whether or not there might be more than a massage involved, allow me simply to say you won’t be disappointed with any of the techniques I’ve picked up over the years.” She had tensed up again and he felt it and stopped massaging her shoulders, but his fingers were still on her skin, caressing her ever so gently.

“Zevran, I… don’t know about this… “ she said, unsure of herself.

Again, he chuckled. “Ah, what is there to fear, my Grey Warden? Surely you deserve some fun, no?” She still didn’t answer and after a second, he took his hands away and she felt him tense ever so slightly, even though his voice kept its playfulness.

“However, if you're not of a mind, it is no matter.” That he didn’t touch her at that moment told her more than anything else. And suddenly Fian knew that this was right. She wanted it. She wanted him. She turned around, the gift for him forgotten next to her and looked at him intensely, forgetting everything around them.

“No, I am definitely of a mind," she smiled and Zevran looked as if a weight had been taken off his shoulders. His smile turned flirty again but his eyes held a seriousness she had seldom seen before.

“Then why are we still talking?” he asked, very quietly, barely ending the sentence before their lips met.


	12. A Letter from the Pearl, Denerim

_Denerim, The Pearl, 9:31 Dragon **  
**_

Dear Aren,

Remember when I said “Why not find the Ashes of Andraste, blessed be Her name” or something like that? Would you be surprised if I told you that it’s not so simple? No? I thought so. But it’s not even the “mythical” part that’s so hard, I have a vague idea where to start the search.

It’s the part about not being able to go home.

But let me start from the beginning. When the Arlessa from Redcliffe first talked about the Urn, she told us she had found a scholar whose work on the Urn was quite extensive and who is considered something of an expert. Brother Genitivi (I think he wrote some other books as well? His name came up a few times already.) who lives in Denerim. You can imagine how I felt when I was on my way home, can you? The closer we got to the city, the more tense I got, the more distracted and focused at the same time. The hardest part where the days and nights when we did nothing but come closer to the city. At night I lay awake, thoughts going round and round and round. Not unlike when we were traveling to the Circle where I knew you’d be - with the major difference that with the Circle I knew something was wrong. This time, it was uncertainty - were they well? Shianni, Soris, father? Why did they not respond to my letters? Had the worst happened and Shianni was with child from one of the bastard humans? How was Soris’ marriage going? Did father get along well without me? And also: how would they greet me? I was so excited about Zev meeting them, but also concerned about how they would perceive me. I travel in human company and never had I been more aware of it when heading home. Would they think me much changed? Of course they would, but for the worse or for the better or just different?

Even Alistair began to comment on my obvious lack of sleep and they began teasing how unsatiable Zev and I were. I did not correct them, for I wasn’t sure how to explain everything going on inside me.

And then…  I arrived. For the first time in days I was just excited and giddy - I was going to see my family again, finally! After all these months, I would be back home! I basically dragged everyone across the marketplace to the entrance to the Alienage… just to see it closed. A guard posted in front of it, telling us in that bored guard voice (you know of which I speak) that they have a Purge in the Alienage. There’s a new Arl, Arl Howe, who by everything I know and learned is a slide little rat, powerhungry, nagging, cruel. And he ordered a Purge. You know what that means… death. And restrictions and guards and more death.

“But that’s my home,” I said, stupidly, lost, like a child and he said I shouldn’t say that out loud, because “my kind” wasn’t very popular at the moment.

Andraste’s tits, I nearly killed him. Hadn’t Zev stayed my hand, I would have slit his throat there and then. I just stared at the man until Leliana took my by the shoulder and lead me away.

“Are you alright?” she asked, which made me snap out of it and I did what I had to - I became all business. I ignored their questions and went directly to search for Genitivi, who we didn’t find. Instead, we found his assistant - or rather someone who posed as his assistant. Now we definitely know where to go. Haven, a small village at the end of nowhere which is where we’ll head next.

It was too late to leave Denerim anyway, so we took care of some more business. It’s amazing what doors and opportunities get opened just because we belong to the Wardens! If the humans would give us elves the opportunities they give me now because of that order, everyone would be happier, seriously. And while we were there, we made the time to meet Alistairs sister, Goldanna. Do you remember him talking about her, all happy visions of being a family with her and her children? I think he was in his fifth cup by then and you know what they say about children and drunks - they tell the truth. He was really cute, all nerves and hope and I was so, so sorry to see him completely crushed. He even gave her money but even fifteen sovereigns weren’t enough for her. All she had for him was disdain and hate and bitterness. It was heartbreaking to see Alistair’s face fall, really. I tried to comfort him and told him that he needs to take more care of his own needs.

More by accident we stumbled upon Marjolaine, an old… let’s say acquaintance of Leliana’s. Her old girlfriend and mentor and teacher, the one making her a bard. She betrayed Leliana and even sent assassins after her when we were on the road (Zevran said it was a sloppy job). That woman even had the nerve to say it was only for Leliana’s best! This time there was no gold to try to appease her, only weapons and blood. Leliana’s not ready to talk yet but it’s hit her hard.

And now here we are, at the Pearl. You remember it? The brothel? We killed some of Arl Howe’s men here and met an old acquaintance of Zevran’s, a woman named Isabela. (Yeah, I know, they really should rename that day “Acquaintance day” or something.) And what a woman she is! Pirate captain, tough and beautiful and confident. You would so like her. She offered to teach me some duelling techniques in exchange for… well. Let me phrase it like that: she and Zevran are both sleeping behind me in this huge bed. You would definitely like her.

And even if I’m sorry for both Alistair and Leliana, having to look out for them was the best diversion I could have asked for. And just when we settled down, Isabela came along and by the Maker, did I go for it. I think, I surprised Zevran a bit with my enthusiasm but he was only too happy to join. If she hadn’t been here, I’d be lying snoring somewhere with two or five bottles of wine around me, just to not think about what’s going on in the Alienage. I still might do that now. For I am out of things I could tell you - not to mention out of paper.

Aren, I’m scared. I haven’t been so scared yet. They might all be dead. And I cannot know. I cannot go and help. All I can do is wait and hope.

Fian


	13. A Letter from Haven

_Haven, 9:31 Dragon_ **  
**

Dear Aren,

You will not believe what happened today. I’m not sure I can wrap my mind around it myself.

I found the Urn of Sacred Ashes.

We FOUND it! And not only did we find it, I spoke to the spirits of people who were with Andraste, who lived with Her, who followed Her, who were there when it all happened!! And it is true. She lived, loved and died. I do not doubt that She actually is with the Maker. It was an overwhelming experience - not easily achieved.

When we first arrived here, everything seemed weird. We soon discovered that there was a cult here that not only sacrificed people but worshipped a dragon as the new-born Andraste. A High Dragon, and she was beautiful - but can you imagine it? Someone actually thinking that Andraste would come back to us as a Dragon, eating people? I cannot. They even asked me to defile the ashes. They dared!

We managed to defeat the cult and the High Dragon and I will make sure that the Chantry knows about the Urn. But even when we had fought our way past the dangers, the path to the Urn itself is not easy. There are challenges, designed to open your mind for the experience that is the presence of Andraste’s spirit. First, riddles. Posed by people who lived with Andraste - her best friend, her husband, her commander, people like that. Then, a fight against yourself. Can you imagine it? Fight yourself, overcome yourself, humiliate yourself and experience your own death, if only in a mirrored way. Then, a puzzle, which you can only pass if not alone, working together as a group. And lastly, the cleansing fire, which you can only pass after taking everything off… leaving everything behind but your naked skin and spirit.

Then you are there. Imagine a huge statue, bathed in light. In the midst of the snow-covered mountains, a temple, warmth and silence. It was serene. And there it was, the Urn itself. I was allowed to take a pinch of them with me which I will use to attempt to cure Arl Eamon (whom I still distrust after finding his letter in Ostagar, but for now we need him). Somehow, I even believe it will work and we will be able to cure him with it.

Oh Aren. After everything that’s happened, that is still happening, this was the first moment that I felt something like hope. Not even finding the Dalish felt like this. And even though I know that this feeling will go away again soon, only too soon, I need to hold on to it for now. Zevran thinks me silly to place so much importance on the Urn but I don’t care. I have Leliana to share the excitement with - she nearly swooned upon laying her eyes on the Urn. We waited for an hour until she was finished praying - but seeing the happy tears in her eyes was worth the wait. Sten only made some grunting noise and dismissed any possible importance or meaning out of hand but it felt like he was pensive for a while there.

We’ll stay the night in Haven and then make for Redcliffe again. I’ll write you again soon. Please let me know how you are!! I’m worrying about you, cousin, after I heard rumours about a fire in Starkhaven.

All my love,

Fian


	14. A Letter after Orzammar

_9:31 - Frostback Mountains **  
**_

Dear Aren,

I am so sorry that it has taken me this long to write again. The hope I expressed in my last letter, after the Urn… it feels dry now. Even though we actually managed to cure Arl Eamon with it, it is now dried out, like the crumbling earth beneath the vhenadahl in the hottest summers, when the heat cannot escape the houses and every drop of water has to be savoured. You remember those summers? I often took a pinch of earth from beneath the vhenadahl, only to see it crumble to dust, lifeless, grey. I remember thinking how deep it’s roots must be for it to still have green leaves when everything else just burned out, robbing us of the few crops we managed to harvest in the tiny gardens.

I still can recall how the two of us managed to climb it in one of those summers… we couldn’t have been older than seven or eight? We tried to escape the heat on the ground and spent some blissfull hours in the tree’s crown. Everything seemed to fade away there - the dirt, the hunger, the heat. We were in our nest up in the branches, surrounded by the sound of leaves rustling in the soft, hot breeze. It even took away the stench.

How young we were, how innocent.

Do you think the vhenadahl still has green leaves when I’ll return? Or will they have turned red?

How dire I sound. How broken. I feel broken. Sometimes I feel like a marionette, drawn about on some invisible strings. And the one pulling them is somewhere in the dark, never to be seen. And maybe not the benevolent type.

I’ve seen the dark, Aren. I’ve been in the darkness. I saw the archdemon, directly in front of me, spewing his vile, violet fire. I saw the horde, marching upwards. More than that, I felt them. I felt them. And it did not totally feel horrible. It was as if something inside me recognized them, welcomed them.

I felt the Taint, Aren. The Taint that Duncan put inside me without giving me a choice.

And I saw how darkspawn are born. A dwarven woman that was turned Darkspawn, forced to eat her kinsmen, breeding Gemlocks. A Broodmother. And now everything became horribly clear. Hurlocks, born by mutilated human women. Gemlocks, born by dwarven Broodmothers. Shrieks, the ones with pointy ears, born by elven Broodmothers.

This is what awaits me in the darkness. When the Taint becomes unbearable and the part of me that is welcoming the dark becomes stronger than the rest of me… The Wardens call it “The Calling”. That’s when they go back into the Deeproads, supposedly to kill as many darkspawn as they can before dying themselves. But what if I don’t manage to die by darkspawn hand. What if they catch me. What if they make me breed darkspawn. I will never go back into the Deeproads. I’ll kill myself before it comes to that.

I haven’t talked to anyone about this, not even Zevran, but I thinks he realizes what’s going on inside me. He is there when I wake up at night on the brink of screaming, shivering, sweating. He holds me while I cry, whispering in my ear, stroking me, kissing me, making promises he won’t keep, loving me, making me forget.

I don’t think I’ll send this letter.

Fian

* * *

Dear Aren,

just a short note to tell you I’m fine. We actually managed to cure Arl Eamon and despite some trouble and difficulties, I secured the dwarves’ help. Can you imagine it was I that made one of them king? Their society is at least as supressive as ours - no elves at the bottom of society but “casteless”. Ugh. But Bhelen, the one on the throne now promised to change it. I hope he keeps his word.

We’re on our way back to Redcliffe and then we’ll probably be off to Denerim again to start the Landsmeet and confront Loghain.

I hope you are good and happy. I’ll write again soon.

Fian


	15. A Letter from Denerim, before the Landsmeet

_Denerim, 9:31 Dragon **  
**_

Dear Aren,

So much has happened, I don’t even know where to start. As I told you in my last note, we went back to Denerim to the Landsmeet to finally confront Loghain. Before we managed to get there, however, we got sidetracked by an old fortress that once belonged to the Grey Wardens but had been abandoned for… centuries? Decades at least. A few months back, a fellow named Levi Dryden asked us to come there if we had the time because he was looking for some kind of evidence his great-grandmother and then-noble Sophia (who was a commander with the Wardens) was a hero, something to clear their name. She was declared traitor and by now his family is only merchants - he’ll tell you all the details in GREAT detail if you want to, I honestly forgot most of it.

Anyway, he feared to venture into the keep alone for it is supposed to be haunted and… well, as silly as that sounds, it turns out he was right. Not only was it haunted, it was so imbued with memories and dreams that we actually  _saw_  some of the events that happened back there. Not read about, not dreamed of, we saw them right in front of us, like some kind of vision!

Of course, there were the obligatory fighting skeletons and I feel stupid even writing it for it’s so cliché, but it’s true. There were fighting skeletons. That was when we knew that some dark magic was at work. The dead did not stay dead, they continued to fight the battle they were killed in. When we entered the fortress, it didn’t take us long to figure out what happened here. And Aren, I promise you, you’d have totally freaked out if you had been here. Not of fear but of glee. There was a tear in the Veil. Even those of us who were not mages could see the Fade, physically before us! It was fascinating, to say the least, horrifying as well, what with all the demons up and about and the dead not staying dead but still kind of fascinating. Wynne tried to explain to me how this whole Fade-streaming-into-reality-making-dead-undead works but I seem to lack some kind of basic understanding to really wrap my mind around it, despite Wynne being really patient. Then, however, we got sidetracked quickly because we met Sophia Dryden.

Not dead, as it turns out. Not her body, at least. Her mind - not so alive anymore. You probably figured it out already, she was of course possessed by a demon, who wanted nothing more but to get out of the fortress in which it was caged, and “enjoy the world to feed”. So, I made a deal with it and - KIDDING! Or, at least, kind of. Yes, I remember the times you told me about deals with demons and don’t worry, I have no plans to become an abomination. I _pretended_ to make a deal with Demon-Sophia so she would close the tear in the Veil (I heard that “och” up to Denerim, Aren!) and in turn I would let her go free. There was an old mage still alive in the tower of the fortress which was what kept her there. He was studying the Taint to use it’s power more effectively. He was ruthless, gruesome and cruel in his studies, killing many people with his experiments… but I let him continue because, Aren, I don't want to die of the Taint and his studies might... help. I put limitations on his experimenting, though, so no more murders. Afterwards, we killed Demon-Sophia and by now, the fortress is safe again.

Aren, I have a request to make. Would you consider coming to Soldier’s Peak for a while to help Avernus with his studies of the Taint? It doesn’t have to be now or next month, but sometime after the threat of the Blight has gone? I know I might not be around then - who knows what awaits us in that last battle with the Archdemon - but even if not, the other Wardens, especially the women, gravely need a cure for the Taint. I just recently learned that we have thirty years at best before the Taint drives us mad and then kills us (if we’re lucky. If not, we become ghouls or… worse). And I’m not prepared to let that happen. I’m also not prepared to let that happen to anyone else. Nobody comes into the Wardens with the knowledge how they forfeit their lives and nobody should be forced to such a fate. I need a cure. The world needs a cure. Please consider it. I’ll try to make sure to give you any resources you’ll need and I’m absolutely prepared to be your trial subject.

Well. After we secured the fortress, we made our way back to Denerim. The Landsmeet will begin in a few days when the last nobles have arrived and there is one mission we desperately need to fulfill before it starts. The Queen’s handmaid managed to contact us to tell us that Anora is held captive in Arl Howe’s keep. Howe. That bastard, that new Arl of Denerim that ordered the purge in the Alienage - which is still going on. I still haven’t been able to go home or contact anyone and thinking about it makes it hard to breathe. We’ll be trying to rescue her tomorrow at dawn. She’ll be a powerful ally - and maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to sneak something in Howe’s drink. Or a knife in his throat. Or something.

> _My dearest Aren, I will now steal your sweet cousin away from her letter to you which keeps her up way too long and if I didn’t know that she’d be mad at me for it, I would describe all I’ll do with her in details to you. For inspiration, of course. Zev._

He’s unbelievable! (Which keeps me sane in all this insanity, I can tell you that.) But very well, I’ll keep it short.

I feel restless, like something big is about to happen. Even Zevran, who is fully and loudly enjoying all the comforts of Arl Eamon’s estate here in Denerim, is not his usual self. He doesn’t think I notice but he locks the doors of our room extra carefully and when we’re in the streets, he’s even more vigilant than normally. I don’t know if it’s Denerim or something else. I just hope, everything goes smoothly tomorrow.

Thinking of you and sending you my love,

Fian


	16. Another Letter from Denerim

_Denerim, 9:31 Dragon_

Aren, my favourite mage,

this is Zevran.

There has been a development which you should know about and Fian is not here to write herself so I’ll do my best to fill you in. So, as I do not know how to properly do this, I guess I should first start by stating that Fian is not dead. No need to worry on this end. She, and Alistair as well, has, however, been captured. By Loghain. After freeing her queen for some reason. Eamon is planning some sort of rescue mission and forbade us to go after them but if he hasn’t done anything by morning, I will take Morrigan and Leliana and go free Fian, I swear to you. Even Alistair, if I must.

Until then I try to keep myself from worrying. Even while I know she is very capable.

Oh, and we killed Arl Howe, which made Fian happy without ends - at least that’s what I’ve gathered by watching her shredding him and I guess there was some spitting on his corpse involved? Certainly no clean kill as she normally prefers but then again, he was a mean bastard. Even I know it and he hired me.

Come to think of it, maybe that’s WHY I know it.

You know, she doesn’t think I see it when she is upset but I know how very much she worries about the alienage and her family. She doesn’t talk about it and changes the topic as soon as anyone tries to coax something out of her but I see her eyes wandering to the gate every time we’re in the marketplace and I do remember how badly she wanted to lash out at the guard when he told her it was closed off. She hides it pretty well, my Fian, at least during the day but I still see it. I do hope that killing Howe gave her some satisfaction.

So, while it is absolutely possible that she already wrote you yesterday it is possible she didn’t and I feel like I need to tell you what happened yesterday before we killed Howe and freed the queen today. We had wanted to do all this yesterday already but we were delayed by some friends of mine. Or I should say, former friends. You know, of course, that I am - or was - a Crow. And that failing in my duty to the Crows I myself became a target. So it wasn’t a complete surprise when Taliesen showed up, my very best friend back in the days. At the worst timing possible of course as is a habit of his. Anyway, he tried to convince me to come back to the Crows, fulfill my original contract and make up some story. You know, for a split second I was tempted. But then again, not really. It would have made some things easier, that’s for sure, but who am I to argue when Fian said that I belonged with her now? She was quite the sight, stepping up to him like that, protecting me. I don’t remember anyone doing so ever before. So we killed Taliesen and the others.

You know, it was strangely easy to kill him. Speaks to how comfortable I’ve become in the company of your dear cousin and the rest, no? And afterwards - I felt free. Let me try to explain… Imagine suddenly, after all these years having no templars around to watch you, guard you, monitor you. No Circle holding you, you being free to go where and whenever you want. Being able to do whatever you want. It was like that. Having a burden lifted off my shoulders without having known it was there and so very heavy. All of a sudden, the world opened up. I offered Fian to leave but she said she’d be cross if I did and we cannot have that of course. So I stayed. And I offered her a gift. It was… something that means a lot to me and I thought she deserved something for setting me free like that. For a second time, no less. But that infuriating woman, you know how she sometimes is, did not take it. She said she would only take it if it meant something more than a mere thank you. So I did not give it to her.

All these months that we traveled together, more so ever since we started sharing a bed, most things remained unspoken and still understood and she did not ask for a token of affection. Why now? It confused me, it still confuses me. By then it was too late to fulfill our mission that day so we went back to Eamon’s estate but after the events of the day it felt wrong to just continue as if they didn’t happen. So I tried to just keep out of her way, clear my head as they say, but she wouldn’t have it. Fian has a knack for knowing something is up, no? Well. Despite me saying that nothing was wrong, she insisted I talk to her and I snapped at her. It hurt and confused her, that I could see but I was too… it doesn’t matter, all that matters is she left me alone that night and we did not get the chance to talk or make up (or out) so far. And today she gave herself and Alistair up to be locked away in prison for some bigger, political scheme and even though I know that Howe is dead, I saw his torture halls and am not so sure whether Loghain is actually more righteous than his killing ferret. And that thought kills me.

And when she is out again, whether by my hand or her own, I think I will offer her the earring again. Or shall I? I do not know what she feels. I am even uncertain what I feel. After all, all this may very well be just a diversion for her, a little excitement and pleasure and companionship during hard times. I am however not so sure anymore whether it really is only that for me. Ah, she is a confusing woman, your cousin.

But I now know why she keeps writing you. It is kind of cathartic, no?

I might even send this. But not without her next letter in which she can tell you herself that she is well and out of prison.

Zevran


	17. A Letter before the Alienage

_9:31 Dragon **  
**_

My dearest Aren,

Zevran told me to tell you I’m fine. (He wrote you?! I hope only good things.) And of course I am. By now I don’t think there’s a door that can hold me if I have the right tools. And I make sure I have them with me always. You don’t want to know where.

(My hair. No one ever searches your hair. Do yourself a favour and learn how to pick locks! So handy.)

I do have to say though that it was nearly too easy. Aside from the one guard we had to kill when I opened our cell, there was basically nobody there. They kept all of our equipment in the direct vicinity of the cell, so we immediately had all our weapons back - and no guard between the prisoner’s wing and the armory where they equip their own. So all we had to do was disguise ourselves as guards, pose as new recruits and then we just went our way. I was so jumpy the whole time, I expected a trap at every corner, it was so easy. Makes me wonder… Anyway, we had two other new recruits with us but it was really easy to ditch them in Denerim’s narrow streets - two turns and they were completely lost. I nearly felt sorry for them!

You should have seen the look on everyone’s face when Alistair and I just turned up right at their doorstep. Eamon was so confused, looking down at some plans, back at us. “Well. Seems like I don’t need this anymore.” I just left him standing there and let Alistair do the explaining. Did I mention I don’t really like Eamon? Something about him is shifty.

I went to talk to Anora afterwards and… well. Okay, this is going to sound weird. And I’m not sure if I did the right thing but - I just arranged a marriage. Between Anora and Alistair. I know! It sounds ridiculous but listen. I honestly do think this is the best.

First of all - I know that Cailan was a likable but not very bright man, believing in fairy tale stories and wanting to be the shining hero. So I really do believe Anora that she in fact was the mind behind the throne all these years, that she has always been the actual ruling party. She does a fairly good job.

I don’t really want her to rule alone, though, because “fairly good” is not the best. You know how it was and how it still is - she is human and noble and doesn’t care about elves or anybody from the gutter, really. She knows nothing of the life of most of the people in her kingdom. But do you know who does? Alistair. He was with me in the gutter. He is a friend, a maid’s son, he knows how it is to grow up unwanted. He fought the hard battles, he knows what the Blight means and the Deep Roads, he saw me negotiating with so many people and shed so much blood and still remained a kind soul. And he has a right to the throne as King Maric’s bastard son. Did I mention that before? No? Well... he is. I've known since Redcliffe. In fact, he is the last of that line. I know he does not want the throne. Which makes him the most suitable king possible.

Not however without someone at his side who can guide him through all the political stuff, who fights his political battles for him. Anora can be the ruler, the wit behind the throne, guide him and show him the business of ruling and Alistair can be the heart, the knowledge behind the throne. Together, I am sure that they can make a better Ferelden.

Oh Aren, reading back what I just wrote I realized how much I have changed from when all of this began. I just negotiated who will rule our country! It was me, an elf, a woman who made that decision and made them all agree! What has become of me? I do hope I still AM me, just more knowledgable. I hope I haven’t become too ruthless in all of this. I makes me wonder what will still happen. I so wish you were here. These letters have become so important to me, cousin, like a lifeline tethering me to the earth.

And now I really need to go, prepare myself for tomorrow. The Alienage is open again, now that Howe is dead - which is… Aren, I cannot tell you how good that feels. Tomorrow I can finally find Father and Shianni and Soris.

Now I will see if I can coax some words out of Zevran. He was so relieved to see me but tensed up so quickly again… We parted somewhat akwardly before I was captured. He said he already told you in his letter about Taliesen? Then you might know he tried to give me an earring afterwards as a thank you. And I was so disappointed that he still, after everything we went through, just makes light of what we have. Or of what I thought we have. So I did not take it. I said I only wanted it if it was a sign of affection… but I think I made a mistake when I did that. He even offered to leave, I probably should’ve taken a hint from that. Ever since, he’s been so closed off. I’m pretty sure I read too much into everything and it probably was only fun and games for him and now that he suspects I have actual feelings for him, he’ll break it up.

But Aren, I really do. I do have feelings for that stupid assassin, that fun-and-games man. I think I love him. Yes. I love him.

But maybe it’s for the best if he ends it now. Then I can fully focus on the fight to come. Even though it breaks my heart to even think about it.

Fian


	18. A Letter of Joy from the Alienage

_Denerim Alienage, 9:31 Dragon **  
**_

My dearest Aren,

After so many letters in which I burdened you with knowledge of horrors and fights and stress and anxiety, I promise you that this one is full of joy. At least most of it.

I am home. In more than one way.

You remember how I wanted to talk to Zevran, fearing that he would end things between us? My fears turned out to be completely unfounded. More than that, actually. We talked late into the night and he told me how all his life, he was taught to never look further than pleasure and distraction and how confused he was by what had developed between the two of us. When I told him how I felt, he barely could believe it - I had never seen him so vulnerable before. He offered me the earring again and the way he did it… Aren, we’re betrothed. We thought about marrying now, today, before the big fight that is still to come but realized that knowing how we feel is enough for now. No ceremony could make this better. And I couldn’t be happier, Andraste and the Maker be my witness. So we’ll wait until after this whole thing is over and when it is - will you be my bridesmaid?

I thought back to my “first wedding” and how happy I thought I was. Only now do I realize that there was a lump in my chest back then that would not go away, despite Nelaros being so kind. I never knew the man, I certainly did not love him and by now I think I wouldn’t really have been happy with him. He was too… kind and docile. I would have felt trapped. Maybe not at first, maybe not for years, but eventually.

With Zevran this is something that will never happen, I am sure of it. He’s been with me through fire and darkness and blood and horror, quite literally, and he shares the same yearning for freedom that I have. We share a bond and trust like I never experienced before.

And not only couldn’t I be happier with Zev, I am  _home_. But coming home was not easy. And I am sorry about what I have to tell you. This part will not be easy to read, it is even harder to write. But I know you love truths and I wouldn’t keep this from you. The home we knew - it is no more. Maybe I outgrew it but that is not all of it.

The Alienage was opened and first thing in the morning, we took off. I was so anxious, not knowing what we’d find and Aren - it was worse than I had anticipated. The inevitable had come to pass with the gates closed and after the raids (Aren, there was so much blood… still so much blood…) sickness had spread. Many homes stand empty and silent and the smell… I nearly burst into tears just by going through the streets. Beneath all of it, the smell of copper and rot and death, corpses of dogs, bones… Just the vhenadal stood proud and tall and silent, watching everything beneath, the ribbons on its branches bleached and sad.

No healer had been allowed in - none but Tevinter “healers” who took our kinsmen into a hospital, never to be seen again. I met Shianni and Soris and they were fine, thank the Maker, with Shianni at the front of the protests, as always. She is such a spirited, amazing person, I am always so in awe of her. Not afraid, always outspoken, did she try to convince the others that something was wrong, even though many would not believe her and closed their eyes from the obvious. It was weird being back. And for the first time in my life I felt like an outsider, like I saw the Alienage for what it really was. The horrors forced upon us but also the horrors we just accept. We have become so used to being the underdog, the outcast that we have forgotten how to live otherwise. Aren, they were taking away their families! Their wives, husbands, children and most just nodded and said: “It’ll be fine.” Even Soris! He let them take Valora!

I am so glad I came back when I did, because the day before they had taken Father. I promised Shianni I’d look into the whole matter and soon discovered the truth about the “healers” and killed them all. You probably figured it out already and you’re right: they were Tevinter slavers.

Can you imagine that the magister who supervised all of it tried to make a deal with me? He wanted to give me the proof I sought (about Loghain and Howe being a part of this business) in exchange for keeping all of his profits and his slaves. Father was in that cage behind him and that human wanted me to sell him out! No kill gave me so much pleasure like killing Howe but this one came very, very close. And sure enough, we found papers on his body with Loghain’s seal on them. Howe had arranged the whole thing. The magister funded Loghain’s war and in return he was allowed to take as many elves as slaves as he liked. I nearly resurrected Howe just to kill him again.

Afterwards, we helped a templar who had come to the Alienage because he feared the doings of bloodmages in here - and sadly, he was true. Do you remember the orphanage? It used to be a nearly nice place, the women here doing everything in their power to make life for the children as happy as possible. Howe changed that. The raids turned the orphanage into a slaughterhouse and it was full of angry spirits. I’ll spare you the details, just rest assured that we managed to clean the house of all evil, even though it cost the templar his life. But now, maybe the orphanage can be rebuild to what it once was.

Zevran and I are spending the night here with Father, Shianni and Soris, the rest went back to Eamon’s estate to spend the night (even though I am unsure how Alistair and Oghren made it back, they were so very drunk. Shale carried them, I guess). After everything that happened that day, with all of my feelings of being the outsider, the evening reminded me of what I have missed these long months. Nobody anticipated my return - after Loghain told everyone that all Wardens died at Ostagar they even had a funeral for me - but now they welcomed me back. It was a huge party full of joy and grief for those not returning of which there are many. Valendrian is gone and so is Valora. But more than grieving, it was a celebration of life. When the spirits were gone and the slavers killed, many who had been thought lost returned to their families and seeing someone fight for them seemed to awaken some lost hope.

Ah, it was like the best festivals you can possibly remember. It was like Wintersend and First Day and Satinalia all in one. The streets were washed and strewn with petals to kill the lingering stench (my wonderful mages helped quite a bit. Being able to summon wind and fire is quite useful!), and everyone gathered beneath the vhenadal. Morrigan and Wynne had some kind of competition who could conjure the best dragons and fairies and other fairy tale creatures with magic (the children were so happy), there were lights in every window and the wine flowed like water. Alistair was passed around in dance from maidens to boys, crowned with flowers while Shale stomped around, covered in children who admired her sparkly crystals and made her pass them up in the vhenadal. Nobody cared that it was forbidden. Leliana sang songs, oh you should have heard her! It was so very beautiful. When she sang some of the songs she learned with the Dalish, many cried. Zevran of course was permanently surrounded and flirting and I think Father was both amused and furious that he refused to talk serious about the wedding or anything concerning the two of us. There were stories and music and I spend most of my money on food and craftsmen who will come in the next few days to start fixing things. Even Sten seemed to amuse himself, deeply in conversation and discussion with the elders. There were many happy reunions and for the first time in many, many weeks I felt truly happy. Shianni is fine and not with child, thank Andraste, and seems to have taken the pain and made it into strength. Even though I know that hint of sadness that never seems to leave her. She understands much of what I went through without me telling her. Father fussed the whole evening that I need to eat more and was just… Father. It was all good.

You were the only one missing, you and Mother. Ah, Aren. I wish you were here. But I will come and get you, if I have to, so you don’t miss the wedding as well. I promise.

The sun is up again and I can hear the sounds of Denerim awaking over Zevran’s soft snoring (don’t tell him I told you. He only snores when he had too much to drink). I’ll try to get some sleep before we have to go back to our mission. This is the last day before the Landsmeet and I plan to enjoy it.

All my love.

Fian


	19. A Letter from Camp

_Camp, the night before the fight, 9:31 Dragon **  
**_

My Aren, dearest cousin,

this may very well be my last letter. Tomorrow we will reach Denerim and we will fight the Archdemon. Tomorrow, it will be over, for good or evil.

Let me tell you what happened in the last days. If I don’t survive, these letters will be my testimony of my decisions and what lead us here today. Let these be my words and if you see fit, you may release them to the people who ask for them. If any do so.

Returning to Eamon’s estate after what we discovered in the Alienage, he proved to be as power hungry as I always thought he was. He was  _glad_ about what we found because it gave us, him, leverage against Loghain. Of course, he also paid lip service to how awful all of it was but it was nothing more than that - lip service. He was also right, however. It gave us leverage and we managed to convince the Landsmeet of the righteousness of our claims against Loghain. Anora sided with us, telling the nobles that he went mad with his paranoia of Orlais and all but one spoke out against Loghain, despite his passionate speech about Ferelden freedom. Look at my people and what he did to them and I’ll tell you how hollow that freedom is. But despite that, I felt for him. I could see that he really thought his course was the best for Ferelden. And I do remember his words back in Ostagar, I do remember how naive Cailan was - maybe he was right after all when he left the battlefield and his action was the only one that gave Ferelden a chance, because now we still have soldiers to fight the Blight.

He challenged me to a duel to first blood and when he asked for mercy as I beat him to the ground, I granted it.

Alistair was furious. He was so furious, he even claimed the throne just to be able to execute Loghain. He nearly spat in my face when I refused to kill a man who surrendered to me, whose daughter begged me for mercy, while Riordan, the other Grey Warden present, asked to use Loghains abilities as a general against the Blight and make him a Grey Warden. Alistair screamed at me, telling me - ME! - how being a Grey Warden was an honor and not something given freely and demanded how I could forget what Loghain did to Duncan and the other Wardens. I was shocked and appalled and then angry. Had Alistair learned nothing in all these months? Had he not seen how weak Cailan had been and how nothing of what happened back then mattered now, now that we had won the throne, the army and the means to fight the Archdemon? How could he not get that now that our own survival was secured, all that matters is to defeat the Darkspawn? How could he forget that the ‘honor’ of being a Grey Warden was forced upon me, that I had come to this ‘honor’ as a criminal? How could he talk about honor and glory to me? And how could he forget our friendship and throw everything we went through together in my face?

I stood by my decision and stoically reminded him of his promise of marrying Anora. Upon which he coldly said he would honor his promise but would no longer fight beside me and never beside Loghain. He left the Wardens to rule the kingdom and was not willing to speak to me afterwards. Thus, my first human friend turned against me. Loghain survived the Joining which was lead by Riordan and we left for Redcliffe, where the Horde was said to arrive.

The conversations I had on the way there with Loghain told me that I made the right decision. He is an honorable man who would do anything for his country and the right person on the throne. He knows that Anora _is_ the right person on the throne and from what I gathered, she indeed has the shrewdness, cleverness and intelligence needed for the job. On our journey, Loghain and I, despite our differences (and the fact that he was willing and trying to kill me), developed a mutual respect, if not friendship.

We arrived at Redcliffe only to gather that our intel was wrong. The Horde was not here. The Horde marched on Denerim, the Archdemon at the front. We and the whole army were entirely at the wrong place. We knew we had to leave again immediately, a forced march towards the city, to save as many people as possible and suddenly, I found myself in a war council. At some point in the last months, I had managed to earn the respect of so many people that they all looked at me. Aren, I am so in over my head…

We decided to spend the night to gather some strength and then leave immediately. Riordan asked me and Loghain to see him before we retired. And then he told us what nobody had told us before. I am not sure if Alistair knows or not but… there is even more to the Wardens than being deliberately infected with the Taint, dying in thirty or so years and possibly becoming Darkspawn or worse ourselves.

We, the Wardens, are the only ones who can kill an Archdemon. And it is the most horrible fate one can have. See, when an Archdemon is killed, the tainted soul leaves the body and finds the next tainted body. Darkspawn are soulless creatures and when the soul enters them, they in turn become the Archdemon and thus, the Archdemon just jumps from Darkspawn to Darkspawn and is never killed. Unless it is a Warden who kills it. The Warden is both tainted and has a soul and thus draws the Archdemons soul into herself. No two souls can be in one body though, and they destroy each other. And there is nothing left. No soul to go to the Maker’s side or to find peace with other Gods. No spirit left to haunt or console the loved ones left behind. Nothing of the person who kills the Archdemon survives. Nothing.

And there are only three of us here.

Riordan immediately said he would do it because he is the eldest, but if he is killed, the burden falls to Loghain or me.

I was dumbstruck. I couldn’t feel my body, I couldn’t say anything. Loghain looked as frozen as I felt. Aren, I don’t want to die. I don’t want to lose everything and everyone. I don’t want to lose the future with Zevran, I don’t want to lose him. But even more so, I don’t want to destroy my soul. I don’t want to cease to exist if the unspeakable happens. If it happens, I want to be at peace. Not this. I wanted to scream, to cry, to demand, to hurt someone, to lament, but all I did was nod. And function. And leave.

And then, Morrigan came to me and offered me a solution. A way out. I dare not tell you what it is, I dare not tell anyone, not you, not Zevran, not anyone. I don’t know if I did the right thing or if it will even work but I took the chance she offered and I took it with both hands. We spent the night together and there was solace in her embrace, and despair and promise.

When we left the next morning, I had my strength and determination back. A chance, slim as it might be.

Tomorrow, we will reach Denerim. And as we sat in our camp in the midst of the army, nobody dared speak. Nobody dared leave for their tent. In the background, we heard singing and talking and the noises of weapons being sharpened and the crack of wood. I looked up at the stars, maybe for the last time, sending all my good wishes and thoughts out to the Maker, praying to Andraste and Mythal, the Protector and All-Mother, and Andruil, the Hunter and to whoever might hear me.

Suddenly, Leliana laughed, startling us all. “Do you remember how Shale stepped onto that poor chicken?” After a second, Zevran grinned. “That was the weirdest sound I ever heard.” “It was a bad chicken”, Shale protested, “it had feathers and all!” Loghain looked stupefied and totally confused and all of a sudden, everyone laughed. We explained Shale’s fear and hatred of birds and how this came to happen and within moments we were in the middle of reminiscing. We remembered the awful smell and horror of the Circle Tower and of Redcliffe Castle and Morrigan told us about her encounter of the demon that possessed Connor. We talked about the magical and oh-so-old feeling of the Korcari Wilds and the Brecilian forest and they all laughed at me when they remembered how I basically jumped out of my skin when that Sylvan suddenly moved. I think, Zevran’s words were: “Oh no, mi amor, you did not only jump, you screamed like a frightened cat.” He’ll have a bruise on his arm tomorrow for that. Loghain asked about the werewolves and we told him the sad story of what happened all these centuries ago. We remembered the mighty halls of Orzammar and the Ale (Oghren especially) and the horrors of the Deeproads - and the beauty of the streams of lava down there, the silence of the Stone and the bravery of the Legion of the Dead. We laughed at Felsi’s stories about Oghren that she had told us and he laughed good-naturedly along. Sten told us a short but heartfelt story about the Warrior’s sword and we explained to Loghain how we managed to find Sten’s sword and what it means to him and his kind. We talked about the magnificence of the Dragon we found at the Temple of Andraste’s Ashes. Leliana sang. We shared stories of Alistair and his kindness and bravery (and a neat description by Morrigan how he looked naked when Flemeth rescued the two of us from Ostagar, including how horrified he was when he woke) and I think we managed to set Loghain’s mind at ease about his daughter’s marriage to him. Leliana, Sten and Morrigan all made a point to underline how immensely stupid it had been to take Zevran in our group and I just shrugged and said: “Well, he asked so very nicely not to be killed.” Upon which Zev said: “Admit it, you just wanted to take me to your bed before killing me.” and I responded “Didn’t I just say that?” and kissed him and everyone laughed and hooted and Oghren belched. Leliana wondered at the marvel of actually finding Andraste’s Ashes and Loghain was so amazed that we actually had found it, that it wasn’t a myth, so we took him on a mind journey to the Temple. I talked about the Alienage and what it meant for me that they had helped me free my family. We remembered constellations and cold, we remembered streams and clearings where we had camped. We remembered smells and conversations and a lunar eclipse, we laughed and at one time or another tears were shed and I think, for the first time Loghain actually understood what we went through to fight this Blight.

The sounds had died down in the camp, the night was at it’s darkest and the fire had nearly burned down when Zevran took up Leliana’s lute. “I haven’t played this since Rinna’s death”, he murmured and then started playing, sending chords along with the sparks to the stars. Leliana only smiled sadly and we went quiet one by one as his sad and aching melody filled the air and our hearts. Leliana held my hand and Morrigan found my eyes across the fire and held my gaze, sadly and knowingly. I think, no eye remained dry, not even Loghain’s or Sten’s, while Zevran played a tune of longing and good-bye for we all knew that this was it. This is it. The last night we share like this.

Whatever happens tomorrow, we will never be together like this again. We might not all survive, we might not survive at all. But even if we do, even if the best comes to pass and we all see tomorrow night, our journey together is over. And I realize that they have become my family, all of them. The whole weird and crazy lot. And I love them all. I will miss them. Sten’s stoic but loyal nature, his calling me “kadaan”. Shale’s heart of gold and stomping and fierceness. Oghren’s drunk singing and calm and good-natured grunts when we talk. Wynne’s calm and loving wisdom, even if it’s sometimes uncalled for. Leliana’s warmth and stories and songs. Morrigan’s silent friendship, her depth and knowledge and love. Even Alistair’s adorable naivety and huge heart which I will try to remember before his anger. I might even miss Loghain’s fierceness and wisdom. And Zevran, my Zevran. I can say nothing that includes everything he is and means to me. I know he will stay with me, so I won’t talk about missing him. But I will miss our group’s conversations and our laughs and fights and annoyance and the awesomeness that has been this journey, despite all of the horrors we knew.

Oh, and Aren, I will miss writing to you in the depth of night under the light of the stars because it is the only time I can write. But if I can, I will continue to do so.

I love you, cousin, please know this. Pray for us.

I will talk to you soon.

Fian


	20. A Last Letter from the Alienage

_Denerim’s Alienage, 9:31 Dragon **  
**_

Dearest Aren,

I’m still here. The unbelievable has happened - we won. We won! The Archdemon is dead and I am still alive and Zevran is alive and Leliana is alive and nearly all the others are alive. Oh Aren, I still cannot believe it. We won.

We lost Riordan, though. But his sacrifice made our victory possible - hadn’t he weakened the Archdemon the way he did, I don’t think I’d have been able to kill it. His death and honor will be remembered. And I do not know if Morrigan is alive and well… I do hope so, though. She told me she’d be gone after the battle and asked me not to go after her. I doubt I will ever see her again but I will think of her. She really was… is one of my best friends. I will miss her. And I will always be thankful for what she made possible. It was her, no, OUR ritual that saved my and Loghain’s life and not only life but our very souls, in the truest way possible. And no, I will still not write down what happened. The Wardens had some questions as well because an Archdemon is dead and no Warden died with it but I pointedly ignored them. As Alistair said: They can’t really make me do anything right now. Denerim is calling me Hero of Ferelden and celebrated me, though I don’t know why. I did nothing special - and certainly not alone. Hadn’t Alistair been with me in the beginning, hadn’t Morrigan lead us from the Korcari Wilds, hadn’t Leliana stood at our side against Loghain’s men, hadn’t Sten killed the undead, hadn’t Shale helped defeat Branka, hadn’t Wynne healed our wounds over and over again, hadn’t Oghren killed the Broodmother, hadn’t Zevran had my back on the way up to the Archdemon - none of this would have been possible. Every single one of my friends saved my life at least once and fought just as hard as I did. If any must be named Hero of Ferelden, then they are at least as important as I. And hadn’t Morrigan done what she did, I wouldn’t be here at all. For the moment, my “Hero of Ferelden” is definitely she. Maybe I will tell you about what exactly happened when we see you in a few weeks.

Wynne said, she’ll make sure that you’ll be allowed to come. Because as soon as you are here, Zev and I will marry.

And then, we will leave Denerim. We all will, all but Oghren. He has been offered a position in the army and will stay for the moment. Shale and Wynne want to to go Tevinter to see if it is at all possible to make Shale a dwarf again. Sten returns to his people. Leliana will lead an expedition to the Temple where we found Andraste’s ashes. Loghain will be head of recruiting and he promised me to make some changes to the process. We will meet in a few months time in Soldier’s Peak to talk to Avernus as well. Our little group and our shared journey has finally come to an end. It still feels weird thinking about it and somehow we all still gather at least once a day for dinner. Delaying our good-byes as long as possible, I think.

And Zev and I? Maybe we’ll escort you back to Starkhaven and from there on…we’ll see. It was the strangest thing, waking up on the morning after the fight, knowing we had no place to be, no fight to fight and no enemies to fear. I am happy to spend most of my days doing nothing but realizing that it’s over. And doing a lot of eating and wandering and reading and… well. Spending my time with Zevran. Oh, and there is a lot going on in the Alienage, rebuilding and organizing and celebrating, a lot of my gold went here.

Alistair has been crowned king, with Anora as his queen and they asked if I want a boon for my victory and I asked them to better the Alienage’s elves lives. You won’t believe it but I asked them to make Shianni Bann and they agreed to it! From now on, not only will Shianni and her family be noble but our kin will have someone to talk for them in the council, someone to officially represent them. Maybe it will get better for all of us.

Or maybe I should say “them”. For I am pretty sure I will never again live in the Alienage. Even now I only feel like a guest. The one thing this journey has taught me is that there is a world out there that just waits for us to discover it. Zev and I have already talked about it and we want to travel, see what there is to see. I want to see Antiva and we both want to see where you now live, we want to travel with the Dalish for a while and see Orlais. The world can be ours, at least for a while. There is still the Taint to worry about but for now I don’t want to think about it. The Wardens want me to go to Amaranthine but I won’t. I have paid my dues and I owe them nothing. Being the “hero” has its advantages:

For now I am free.

I will see you soon.

Fian

* * *

 

Fian put the quill aside and smiled as she dusted the letter and then sealed it. Behind her, the bed squeaked as Zev turned around and blinked at her from under the blankets. “What are you doing up, mi amor?” he asked and yawned. “Writing to Aren,” Fian answered and put the letter aside before she turned to him. “Whatever about? It is over.” Zevran stretched and propped himself up in the cushions. Fian’s smile broadened and she beamed at him as she went to join him in bed again. “Exactly.”


End file.
